


A Hidden Thirst

by Chicktar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 14:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicktar/pseuds/Chicktar
Summary: Dean is struck by a witch's curse that is slowly killing him.  The only cure is to satisfy his long-suppressed desires for that certain someone who is closest to him in the world.A/N:  I just put the non=con tag on because the curse affecting Dean is making him more susceptible to give in to his desires than he normally would be and Sam is thinking of it at first as rape.





	A Hidden Thirst

_ “The hidden lust that you feel _

_ When sleep you must you will reveal. _

_ The object of your greatest desire _

_ Will fill your mind and stoke your fire. _

_ Your thirst will grow and all consume _

_ So quench its thirst or greet your tomb.” _

 

Sam had heard those words ringing in his head for weeks now.  Could still see the witch’s face as she’d pointed at Dean and pronounced her curse.  “Homemade,” he’d thought at the time, actually amused by the weak wordplay and rhyming.

Dean, of course, had only seemed worried about what it might mean.  Sam would have thought a curse urging him to actually satisfy his sexual lusts would have him out at strip clubs and bars, picking up girls every night.  Instead, Dean had hit the books and stayed up late every night, poring over them to find a cure. When that had failed, he’d let Sam take over on the books and had hit the streets to try to track down the witch herself.

Then, five days after the curse had been cast, Sam had come out to the kitchen to find Dean asleep at the table, head and arms resting over a pile of open books.  And talking in his sleep.

“C’mon, Sammy.   _ Please _ .”

Sam had stopped in his tracks, just a step past Dean, and turned back, sure that Dean would be laughing at him or even trying to distract Sam from the ‘Kick Me’ sign he was taping to Sam’s back.  

But Dean hadn’t moved.  Except that his brow was a little furrowed and his mouth was now slightly open.

As he watched, Dean let out a soft moan.  “Yeah. Nnnh. ‘S good.”

Sam had stared for a second and then saw Dean’s tongue slide out and slowly move over his lips, and Sam had made a beeline for his room, shoving his sleep pants down and stripping his cock roughly the second his door was closed.  He came into the air with a groan and slumped down onto his bed. Then he'd spent the rest of the night arguing with himself about whether Dean’s words…whether he could have been dreaming about…whether what he’d heard meant what he so desperately wanted it to mean.  And his rational side had won in the end. Obviously it couldn’t mean  _ that _ .  

But the next night, a few hours after Dean had headed off to bed with his fourth glass of bourbon, Sam had stepped up to Dean’s door and silently opened it.  Dean was asleep, laying on top of his bed, still half-dressed. Sam could see his erection tenting his boxers—the pair scattered with classic cars that Sam had given him once as a joke, expecting Dean to throw them out immediately.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean murmured.  And Sam’s eyes flew up to his brother’s face.  Dean’s mouth was open and his body shifted restlessly on the bed.  “Mmm…want you so much.”

Sam pressed his back up against the wall behind him and stared as Dean…   _ Fuck _ .  As Dean dreamt.  About  _ him _ .  

“Ooohh…  god, yeah, baby boy.  So fucking hot, Sammy.”  Dean’s hand slid over the bed and up his thigh to take hold of his cock through the fabric of his boxers.  And Sam had been lost ever since then. He’d stared, frozen in place, as Dean whispered and jerked himself through his dream, then he’d retreated to his own room to stroke his own cock roughly to orgasm in about three quick strokes. After, he laid in his bed, worrying and wondering about how he could bring this up to Dean.  And how he could get Dean to agree to the painfully obvious solution that both of them clearly longed for.

And for the last two weeks, it had gone basically the same way every night.  Dean researched and investigated by day, then drank and tried to stay awake to avoid sleeping and dreams.  Then gave in and headed to bed. Sam would follow after, waiting until he could hear Dean’s breathing even out.  Then eventually he would sneak into Dean’s room and slide onto the floor to wait and watch. A few nights after the first time, he had started just jerking off right there in Dean’s room along with him.  To the sound of Dean saying his name. The first time Dean had actually shoved his underwear down below his balls in his sleep and Sam had been able to see him stroke his cock while calling Sam’s name, he had managed to come twice in the time Dean had taken to work through his own first dream.  Then Dean had started to have more dreams, and the dreams had seemed more intense. Dean murmured and moaned nearly endlessly now as he slept. Moaning for hours and stroking his cock even after he had just come.

Sam had heard every single one of his fantasies come alive in Dean’s rumbling sleep-speak.  From Dean begging for his cock, to muttering about how Sam would have to ask more clearly if he wanted Dean’s cock.  From Dean whispering about how good Sam tasted and how much he wanted Sam’s come everywhere, to ordering Sam to his knees like a “good boy.”  From Dean telling Sam to choke him, to calling Sam a perfect hole for his dick. Dean moaned loudest and was most agitated when his dreams involved Sam dominating him in some way.  He seemed to love begging and pleading with Sam for Sam to touch him, to fuck him, to use his mouth. Sam was sure that even if they found a cure without Sam ever getting to fulfill his fantasies, he would live his entire life jerking off to the memory of Dean calling out for Sam to fuck him harder and shouting as they both came in their hands, “Yes, yes, Sammy, come in me!  Fuck, yeah, baby boy. Make me yours just like you’re mine. You’ve always been mine, Sammy! My baby boy! ‘M yours, Sammy.”

But as tantalizing and difficult as the dreams and Sam’s lack of sleep were, it was so much worse what was happening to Dean.  He was dying. The curse was killing him. Sam couldn’t pretend otherwise anymore. He was sick and exhausted, a pale, weakened, darker version of the brother Sam had always known.  He had thick, dark bags beneath his eyes and a slump in his shoulders. He shuffled when he walked and now refused to even leave the house. He barely ate, seeming to live now entirely on coffee and bourbon.  When Sam had brought him an apple pie from his favorite bakery, Dean had taken two bites and apparently managed to get those down solely out of sheer will to make his brother happy. He hadn’t laughed or smiled in the last two days, and Sam knew that if Cas didn’t come up with a solution by tomorrow, Sam would have to take matters into his own hands.  Even if it would mean he lost Dean forever. He would save his life. He would always do whatever it took to save Dean’s life. Whatever the cost.

* * *

Sam was relieved when Cas finally left.  Of course, he hadn’t been able to find a cure.  And his palpable worry as he observed Dean, and Dean’s extra effort to pretend he was fine—just a little tired—had frayed Sam’s already worn nerves.  Castiel had offered to stay and watch over Dean so Sam could get some sleep, letting his concerned glance trail over Sam. But thankfully, Dean had nixed that idea entirely and practically pushed Cas out the door.  Except that Dean could barely stand as he got to the door and couldn’t have pushed Cas anywhere. Sam stared at Dean, trying to conceal his horror as Dean leaned against the front-stairs railing, breathing hard from the exertion of simply walking to the door.

“Quit yer worryin’, Sammy,” Dean grunted.  “I‘ll be fine tomorrow.”

_ Yes, you will be fine tomorrow, _ Sam thought.   _ I’m going to make sure of it _ .

“Jus’ gonna go crash early.”  He looked at Sam with more focus than he’d had in a week.  “Cas’s right, Sam. You don’t look so good. You should get some rest, too.  Or go get laid for a change, and then get some rest.”

Guilt hit Sam like a knife stab.  Get laid. Dean just told him to get laid.  It was like some twisted parody of consent. But Sam wasn’t fooling himself.  ‘Hidden lust’ or not, Dean would never consent. Sam was planning to rape his brother.  The most unforgivable thing Sam could ever do in a long life full of unforgivable things.

Sam forced himself to look at Dean and managed some version of a smile.  “Maybe I will. Go ahead, I’ll clean up out here and see you later.” He watched Dean drag himself down the hall, then slumped down into a chair.  He was too tired to cry. So he just sat. For over an hour. Thinking about Dean. His bad jokes, stupid pranks and self-satisfied smirk. His same old music, same old food, and same old clothes.  His porn and his women…all while he secretly fantasized about his little brother. About  _ Sam _ .  How long?  How long had Dean wanted the same thing Sam did?  Sam knew there was no way it could be as long as Sam had.  But something about all of this—the curse, the plethora of different fantasies and dreams Dean had, the speed it was sucking Dean’s life away—it spoke to Sam of a long-concealed secret.  Sam didn’t even know if Dean was aware of his own desires. 

But Sam had certainly been aware of  _ his _ .  Of course, being the younger brother, Sam had the perfect fodder for fantasy living in the closest of quarters with him already when puberty hit.  Dean. Right there. Usually in the same hotel room with him and often in the same bed. Gorgeous. And strong. And  _ home _ .  Even after Sam had figured out he didn’t want to  _ be _ Dean in  _ every _ way, he was still the perfect model of some things.  Bravery. Heroism. Self-sacrifice. If the tables had been turned right now, Dean would tear through heaven and hell both to cure Sam.

If the tables were turned.

If Sam were cursed, and Dean had tried everything else…

If Dean knew about Sam’s deepest desires…

If Dean knew that Sam had to satisfy those desires or die…

If Dean knew the only way around the curse was  _ through _ it…

Sam felt that sick guilty knot in his stomach shrink and fade, drifting away to nothing.  Dean wouldn’t hesitate. Well, he’d hesitate as long as he could. And then he’d save Sam’s life.  

 

Half an hour later, Sam was standing over Dean’s bed, freshly showered, with handcuffs, lube and a condom in his hands.  He’d thought that when it came down to it, he might not be able to do it. Might not be able to get hard. That the  _ wrongness _ of the situation would be too much.  But he needn’t have worried. Dean’s dreams had gotten more intense as time passed, and tonight, just like the last few nights, he was writhing on his bed, whispering a constant stream of filth about Sam.  He had apparently gone to bed wearing only boxer briefs, but they were shoved down to his thighs now, Dean’s hand stroking his cock restlessly, his chest and face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Sam was half hard already, his body heating up fast, need and hunger already starting to surge his adrenaline.  

He set the lube and condom down on Dean’s nightstand and looked at the handcuffs.  He might not even need them. Dean might not fully wake up. And even if he did, he was so weak that there was no way he could be a match for Sam right now.  Still, Dean was already moving around with the heat of his dreams more than Sam would have expected he had energy left in his body for. Sam clicked one of the cuffs open and took hold of Dean’s right wrist, lifting his hand off of his hard and leaking cock.  Dean moaned softly, and murmured, “Sammy,” but made no effort to pull away. When he lifted Dean’s hand up to the headboard and clicked one of the cuffs shut around Dean’s wrist, Dean didn’t react at all, his body rocking and shifting on the bed as he mumbled away about ‘his fucking gorgeous baby boy.’  Sam was rock hard now, and moved quickly to take Dean’s left arm and raise it above his head to slip the other cuff around it.

This time Dean moaned, and said, “Fuck yeah, Sammy.  That’s right. So fucking strong. Gonna make me yours—make me be good for you.”  He rocked his hips up into the air as if searching for Sam’s body, for something to grind against.  It was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen, and all of Sam’s resolve to try to stay detached and focus just on quickly completing this so Dean could be cured crumbled to nothing in that moment.  Sam’s cock strained in front of him, throbbing and full, reaching toward Dean. His body was on fire. He’d planned to just prep Dean and slide in as quickly as he could without hurting him. But instead he found himself going to his knees between Dean’s legs and plunging his mouth down over Dean’s cock.

Dean jerked his hips up with a yell, shoving even farther back into Sam’s throat, almost choking him, and Sam pressed his forearm down across Dean’s pelvis, holding him back down onto the bed.  He looked up and froze when he saw Dean’s eyes were open wide, staring down at him. But Dean didn’t say anything and didn’t move. Just stared at Sam like he might be a ghost. Or a dream.

Sam kept his eyes on Dean as he let his tongue slide out to lick and swirl over the head of Dean’s cock.

Dean gasped and his eyes widened impossibly further.

Sam closed his lips over Dean’s cock and pressed forward slowly, taking in more, letting Dean’s shaft slide over his lips and fill his mouth.

“Ohhh…” Dean sighed.

Sam swallowed slightly and pressed forward and down, taking the head of Dean’s cock into his throat and pressing his face in tight among Dean’s pubes, sliding his tongue under and around it as he looked up at Dean from under his lashes.

Dean let out a long, high, keening noise, and Sam felt him trying to rock up again, pushing back against the arm Sam had holding him down to the bed.

Sam pulled back and popped off, looking up at Dean.  He was about to ask Dean…something…if he was okay or for permission to go on…he didn’t even know what…when Dean spoke again.

“Please, Sammy.”

Sam was frozen.  Naked between his brother’s legs, his mouth just centimeters from Dean’s ready and aching cock, nose surrounded by the musky smell of Dean and  _ home _ .  “What, Dean?”  Was he going to beg Sam not to do this?  Sam already knew he wouldn’t stop.

“Don’t…”

_ Oh, god. _

“…stop.  Please.”

Sam smirked.  “Don’t stop what, Dean?”  He let a slow hot breath out over Dean’s balls and felt Dean jerk beneath him.

“Saaam…”  He had never heard Dean’s voice carry a whine like that.  Sam’s cock jerked and he found himself rocking down into the mattress. 

“Tell me, Dean.  Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“Your mouth.  Please.”

Sam leaned forward and slid his lips softly up the length of Dean’s dick.  “Mmm. You want my mouth? Where do you want it, Dean?” He started to open his lips, planning to slide them around Dean’s cock the moment Dean responded.

“My h-hole.”

Sam stopped dead, staring up at Dean.

“Please, Sammy.  Want you to lick me.  Want you to get me ready for you.  For your cock. Please. I need you so bad.”

Sam realized he was thrusting hard into the bed now, listening to Dean go on, begging him for…   _ Oh fuck fuck fuck.  God yes. _  Then he was in motion.  Finally. He slid his hands under Dean’s thighs and shoved them up and forward, lifting Dean’s ass and spreading Dean’s legs for access.  Holy fuck, it was so perfect. White and puckered, with a light surround of softer hair. He slid his tongue forward and circled it around Dean’s rim.  Sweat and something a little dirty, but still so fucking amazing. Because it was Dean. He licked around the sensitive skin then with purpose, soaking up the sound of Dean’s gasps and soft moans, interspersed with more filth.   _ Shit. _  He was grinding against the bed still, unable to stop himself.  So full of need and hunger.  _ Fuck. _  How was he going to make it long enough to get inside Dean?  It was awkward, holding Dean’s legs and bending down and…

He looked up at Dean.

“Dean, I’m going to uncuff you, okay?”

Dean just nodded down at him.

Sam crawled up over Dean and reached for the handcuff key on Dean’s nightstand.  As he picked it up and reached for Dean’s wrists, the tip of his cock was suddenly engulfed in wet heat.  He gasped and looked down to see Dean craning his neck forward to get Sam’s cock into his mouth, and Sam groaned aloud.  Dean’s lips—Dean’s mouth—his perfect, soft, full, pink, round lips were wrapped around Sam’s cock. His eyes were closed, the soft lashes resting on his cheeks, and he was sucking and sliding his tongue over the head, and Sam forgot everything else.  He took hold of Dean’s headboard with both hands and stared at Dean’s mouth wrapped around him. He rocked his hips slowly forward and watched Dean relax his neck and let it fall back slowly onto his pillow. Sam scooted gently forward on his knees, careful not to disrupt the hold Dean’s lips had on him, until finally, as he pushed forward, Dean couldn’t go further back and instead let Sam’s cock slide past his lips and into his mouth.  Dean’s eyes opened as Sam started to fill his mouth, and Sam stared at how wide Dean’s mouth had to split open to let him in. He wondered if Dean had ever sucked anyone as big. When Sam felt resistance against the head of his cock, he pulled back and started rocking gently in and out of Dean’s mouth, luxuriating in the velvety sensation of Dean’s tongue and mouth and the soft but tight circle of his lips pressing around Sam’s length.

He stared at Dean’s beautiful face there beneath him, and his heart skipped a beat.  “Dean,” Sam whispered. “Love you so much.”

Dean moaned and jerked his hands, rattling the cuffs against the headboard.  

Oh, right.  Sam released his grip on the headboard and reached for one of the cuffs, unable to stop his hips from still rocking forward and backward, dragging himself in and out of that perfect, hot, wet mouth.

When he got the first cuff undone, Dean’s hand flew around to grab his ass cheek shockingly hard.  He couldn’t believe Dean still had such strength in his grip with how sick he was, but he clutched onto Sam and immediately pulled him forward, hard.  Sam had to slam a hand up on the wall to try to keep from shoving entirely into Dean’s throat and choking him.

“Dean!” Sam blurted out.  “Wait!”

Dean stilled, not really releasing his grip, but not tugging Sam forward.  Sam awkwardly managed to release Dean’s other wrist and then dropped the key and handcuffs to the floor as Dean grabbed his other ass cheek just as hard and returned to pulling Sam forward, now with the full remaining strength of both arms.

Sam let out a rough shout and grabbed again for the headboard.  He tried to resist Dean’s pull, desperate not to choke him, knowing he was big and not knowing what Dean could take, especially weakened like this, but another part of him was so desperate to thrust in hard and deep and take and use and  _ make Dean his _ …  Dean didn’t stop.  His fingers were digging into Sam’s ass, and he was pulling Sam forward, and then Sam’s hips were almost flying forward and he was pressing down into Dean’s throat and Dean’s lips loosened around his shaft as Dean made a little choking noise and swallowed, and then Sam was slipping through that tightness and sliding into Dean’s throat, and his entire cock was somehow in Dean’s mouth and Dean’s face was pressed up tight against him, Dean’s hands still clenched on his ass, holding him there tight.  Sam shuddered and realized he was close. He…oh god. Then Dean’s hands relaxed and he was pulling back and out and Dean was coughing roughly. Oh fuck, he had choked him…had hurt Dean…he—

But before he could finish that thought, Dean’s hands were back and Dean’s eyes were looking up at him, fierce and hungry, as Dean grunted out, “Come on, Sammy.  Fuck me. Choke me. Give me that fucking cock.” 

Sam stared down at him. 

“You’re not afraid, are you, baby brother?”  Dean’s tone was teasing but aggressive at the same time.  “You know I can find plenty of other guys who’d love to shove their cocks down my throat and make me gag.  Is that what you want, Sammy? Do you want some other dick owning my mouth and—”

Sam slammed forward, fucking hard into Dean’s throat and holding there, grinding his hips in a little rocking motion as he felt Dean’s throat swallowing and convulsing around the head of his cock.   _ Oh god.  Fucking yes. _  He held there for seconds upon seconds, staring down as Dean’s face reddened and then finally pulled back and out to watch Dean sputter and gag.  Sam was burning with the heat and power of this moment. Dean beneath him, the heat and silky smoothness of his mouth, how badly he wanted Sam—it was a deluge of everything he had tried to suppress for so long and still felt immensely more intense in real life than he would have imagined.  He could feel his own body trembling, and his nerves were like live wires everywhere he had contact with Dean.

Sam gave him just a few seconds and then slid back in, less hard, but setting up a steady pace now, of sliding forward and pushing until Dean swallowed and let him into his throat, and then holding there for a few seconds before sliding back out again and repeating.  It was perfect—Dean was perfect. He sucked and caressed Sam’s length with his tongue. He moaned softly when Sam pressed forward and sometimes whimpered when Sam pulled back. His lips stretched around Sam, looking taut and pressured and still Dean’s eyes looked like they were pleading with Sam for more.  Sam fucked Dean’s throat and mouth like that until he was on the brink of orgasm again. Then he pulled out and slid a hand down into Dean’s hair, shaking his head a bit until Dean looked up at him. “Where do you want my come, Dean?”

Dean’s eyes widened.  “My face. Come on… Mark me, Sammy.”

_ Fuck _ .  Sam released Dean’s hair and his hand flew to his cock, stripping himself roughly, and in seconds he felt nothing but that amazing moment of heat over his entire torso and tightness in his feet and legs, and then he was shuddering and spurting come.  Directly onto Dean’s face. Splashes of it over his lips and cheek and forehead and somehow Dean was just looking up at him as if he wanted nothing more than this moment to continue forever.

When he came down, Sam settled back slightly, lifting his heels up to support himself, trying to be careful not to crush Dean’s chest in his still weakened condition.  He looked down at Dean’s face, splashed with his cum, and tried to memorize every curve, every line. When Dean came out of this haze from the curse, he would kick Sam out of his life and Sam wanted to remember this for the rest of his life.  After a minute he reached over and pulled a couple Kleenexes from the box on Dean’s nightstand and gently wiped Dean’s face clean. Dean watched him the whole time, quietly, his expression inscrutable.

When Sam finished and tossed the soiled tissues toward the trash can in the corner, he realized that although Dean wasn’t saying anything, he was still moving, his pelvis rocking in a gently circular motion underneath Sam and his hands sliding restlessly up and down the outside of Sam’s legs.  Sam glanced back and saw Dean’s cock, harder than ever, the head nearly purple and a little dribble of precum pooled on his stomach.

“Saamm,” Dean breathed.

“I’m here, Dean,” Sam said, looking down at his brother and gently gliding a finger along his jaw.  So goddamn gorgeous.

“Sam,” Dean rumbled.  “Are you…you’re still going to fuck me, right?”  Sam felt Dean’s body beneath him shifting as he rocked his hips in an endless sort of circle, still trying to satisfy that aching need.  “Still need...you…to feel you…”

Something was swelling in Sam’s chest.  It felt like it would burst out and kill him at any moment but he wouldn’t have cared.

“Yes, Dean.  Of course. I’m going to take care of you.”  He scooted his knees back, hissing and pausing when he felt his own soft cock slide over Dean’s stomach and brush up against his hard, leaking cock.  He leaned onto his hands and stared down at the two of them, rocking his own hips to brush himself back and forth a few times along Dean’s length. He felt so smooth and solid and full against Sam.

When Sam looked back to Dean’s face, it was so close—right beneath him.  He stared at Dean’s soft lips, swollen and pink now from being used—somehow making them seem more gorgeous than ever.  He could bend down and kiss Dean right now. Dean would obviously let him do anything in this state. But something stopped him.  He could take Dean to save his life, and he could even get off on it and live the rest of his life on the memories. But kissing felt like a violation somehow.  He couldn’t have explained it, but he wasn’t going to let the curse take that from them. At least they would never kiss unless they both wanted it, without the influence of some foul curse.

Sam picked up the lube and condom and moved on, sliding back into his position between Dean’s legs.  He pressed Dean’s thighs back to his chest and this time told Dean to hold them, feeling a small thrill at how quickly Dean rushed to obey, pulling his legs in tight and rocking his ass up in the air, exposing his hole for Sam once again.  It was still a little shiny with Sam’s spit, and Sam didn’t hesitate. He swiped his tongue up Dean’s crack and over his hole, his perineum, and up to his balls. He suckled on them gently for a couple minutes, playing with the weight and feel of each of them in his mouth, then he slid back down to Dean’s hole and let the tip of his tongue slide in and then play over the puckered skin of Dean’s rim.  Dean rocked and moaned under him, and Sam slid his fingers over the skin on either side of Dean’s hole, pulling it taut and then licking over it and starting to dart his tongue in and suck or blow here and there at intervals. He soaked in every reaction of Dean’s and noticed that Dean loved it when he sealed his lips over his hole and sucked gently, but moaned loudest when he started to shove his tongue in as deep as he could and swirl it around inside.  

He slicked up a couple fingers and slid one inside, going deep right away as Dean took him in easily and started muttering “Yes, Sammy, yeah, that’s good.  Come on…gonna get me ready for your cock?” He slid a second finger in, this time more slowly, working them back and forth a bit until he was fucking Dean and starting to spread his fingers apart, twisting them a bit inside Dean.  In just a couple minutes, he was adding more lube and working a third finger in, bending his head down again to lick and suck at Dean’s balls as he did, reveling in sounds Dean made that shifted from hiss and gasps to moans and occasional curses.  Sam didn’t know how his fantasies had never come even close to how sexy a needy, aroused Dean actually was. He oozed need and want and pleasure from every pore, and his body moved with Sam in a perfect rhythm, rocking up automatically to meet Sam’s fingers and circle down and away as he slid them out, but somehow still tilting at the perfect angle so Sam’s mouth never lost touch with Dean’s balls.  It felt just like the most perfect moments in a fight, when their bodies knew without thought where the other one was and adjusted perfectly to dance around each other and their enemies until everyone else was gone but them.

“Sammm…”  Dean’s voice pulled him from his reverie.  Dean’s hole was pink and spread just a little open now, Sam’s fingers sliding in and out easily, even spread apart a bit.  He raised his eyes and Dean was looking down at him, his eyes wide and dark again, and he thought if trust were a color it would be the shade of green of Dean’s eyes right at that moment.

“Yeah,” Sam said, his voice gruff.  He cleared his throat. “I’m here, Dean.”

“Please.”

Oh god.  This was it.

Sam got to his knees and was almost surprised to realize he was rock hard.  He reached for the condom and Dean grabbed his arm. “No. Sam. I’m clean. I swear.”  Sam didn’t need to be asked twice. He was always safe himself, so he knew he wouldn’t give Dean anything.  And even if Dean wasn’t so careful, Sam couldn’t have cared less. If this was the only time he was ever going to feel Dean’s flesh against his own, holding and surrounding him, he would have risked almost anything for it.  He threw the condom aside and slicked up his cock, Dean’s eyes tracking his every move.

“Big, Sammy,” Dean breathed.  “Fuck. I had no idea. My baby brother.”

Sam’s cock jerked in his hand, and he slotted up tight between Dean’s thighs.  He pressed the head of his cock to that pink, slick hole and started to press in, letting out a groan when his head slipped past Dean’s rim.  Oh fuck. He already felt so good. Hugging tight around him. Sam rocked forward, pushing in and in and in. He shifted his hands to lean on Dean’s thighs, letting him use his weight and the better angle to slide in the entire rest of his length, all the way until he was fully encased in Dean’s warmth, his balls pressed against Dean’s ass.  It was…how could it be this good? Why did Dean feel so much better than anyone else he had ever been inside? He was hot and smooth and the perfect pressure all against and around him.

“Dean,” he whispered.  “Fuck. It’s so perfect.”

“Just perfect ‘cuz it’s for you, Sammy.  Belong to you.”

Sam felt that thing in his chest start to crack open.

“Come on, Sam.  Move,” Dean urged, and he tried to rock his own hips underneath Sam.

Sam’s hips jerked up, pulling him halfway out, and then rocked forward again, sliding back into Dean, although Sam didn’t realize he’d decided to move.  But his body seemed to take over, sliding out and back into Dean, until he had a smooth rhythm going of long, steady strokes. He lost track of time, so focused on how incredible Dean’s ass felt around him, until Dean was suddenly jerking his legs free of Sam’s arms and wrapping them around Sam’s waist, using his legs to pull Sam in hard with each thrust.

Dean’s face was intent, and his tongue restlessly slid over his own lips at intervals, punctuated here and there with little gasps of “Yes” and “Fuck.”  His face was flushed and his skin smooth and taut—as if he somehow had gotten more beautiful while they’d been fucking. His eyes were shining and he looked more vital than he had in weeks.  Sam had to remind himself to be careful—that Dean was sick and he couldn’t just use and take him hard and fast. He tried to keep his cool and keep them at a steady pace, but Dean kept urging him faster and harder, tugging at him with his legs and arms and coaxing him with muttered curses and pleas.

Then, suddenly, Dean shook Sam off and was moving.  He rolled onto his knees in front of Sam and dropped his elbows to the mattress, looking back over his shoulder at Sam.  His…his round, perfect ass was in front of Sam and Sam could see his ass, now stretched smooth, a dark open hole surrounded by slick pink skin.  It was where Sam belonged. 

“Don’t just fucking stare, Sam,” Dean grunted.  “Fuck me! Fuck me like you fucking mean it. Fuck me like I fucking belong to you, Sam.  Shove your fucking huge cock in my ass and pound me until I can’t feel anything anymore except my hole aching from how much you used me.”

Sam looked up at Dean and knee-walked up between Dean’s legs.  Oh yeah. If that’s what Dean wanted he was going to learn what a hard fuck was really like.  He pushed his cock in and scooted up nice and tight to Dean’s ass then wrapped his fingers around Dean’s hips, digging in hard until Dean hissed out a small whine.  Sam rocked back, letting Dean’s body slide forward until only the head of his cock was still inside Dean, and then he sharply pulled Dean’s hips back as he snapped his own forward, ramming up tight against Dean’s ass, filling him completely and relishing in the gasped sort of moan Dean let out.  Sam repeated the process, setting up a fast pace now, letting himself go, feeling strong and brutal and powerful and so fucking in love with how Dean’s body just gave and gave for him but still sucked and hugged around him so tightly—a perfect wet-hot glove made just for Sam’s cock.

“Dean,” Sam moaned, “Your hole’s so tight.”  He slammed into Dean, moaning with pleasure. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!  Fuck yes, Sam.  Just…unnnhh…like that.  So fucking good, baby boy.  Want you to…make me yours. Want to belong to you.  Unnhhh. Have just your cock in me.” Dean was rambling now and Sam lost himself in their hard rhythm and Dean’s low, hungry, sex-filled voice.  “ _ Fuck _ .  I had….no idea…you were so big.  Making me so full, Sammy. Oh. Fuck.  Yes, Come on. Fuck me.” Sam clutched at Dean’s hips, his arms jerking back and forth as he stuffed Dean’s hole again and again.  “Oh shit. Fuck. Sam. ‘M yours, Sammy. Just for you. Want to just….unnhh….have you use me….all the fucking time.” Sam’s toes were starting to curl.  He was going to come. He should reach down—take hold of Dean—jerk him off. But he couldn’t move his fingers. Couldn’t stop his rhythm. Needed to come inside Dean so bad.  Needed to keep feeling just this just a little more. “Just want to belong to you. Fuck, Sam. So close. Need your come. Need you to come in me. Please, Sammy. Fucking need you.  Oh…fuck…fuck….yes…Sam…fuck…” Sam’s orgasm slammed into him and he slammed into Dean, dropping all of his weight down over his brother’s back and shoving them both down into the mattress, shaking and shuddering as he came buried so deep and tight inside of Dean.  He heard Dean yell and felt him shaking beneath him, but he couldn’t do anything other than clutch onto Dean’s hips and ride out his body’s convulsions. It seemed to go on forever. 

Until finally he was breathing normally again and slid off of Dean to lay next to him and wait.  Wait for the other shoe to drop. Dean’s eyes were closed and he was breathing easily, looking healthier and more vibrant than he had since the curse had been cast.  Sam supposed he should wonder—it sounded ridiculous, after all. But he had no doubts. He knew the curse was gone and Dean would be okay now. And that was all that really mattered.  All that mattered in the whole world to Sam. He waited for Dean to rouse and end the moment. To shatter Sam’s life with a word. But nothing happened. Dean simply lay there next to him, his breathing even and steady, and then deeper and slower, until Sam realized his brother was sleeping.  So he watched Dean sleep. Sleep without any sign of dreams for the first time in weeks. Until Sam, too, was asleep.

* * *

He woke alone in Dean’s bed.  He had no idea how much time had passed.  The clock read 4:45 AM, but he couldn’t have said when Dean had gone to bed or when he had followed him here, much less how long their ‘encounter’ had taken.  The room looked just the same—no signs of Dean freaking out when he had woken up naked next to an equally unclothed Sam. He got up and, seeing Dean’s robe draped over a chair, slipped it on as he headed out to the main living area.  He heard Dean whistling in the kitchen before he even got there. Sure enough, when he rounded the corner he saw Dean whisking something in a bowl as he whistled something that he thought might be the Little River Band. Sam walked slowly into the kitchen and stood awkwardly in the doorway, as Dean poured pancake batter into a hot frying pan.

“Dean?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows at seeing Sam.  “Hey, Sammy? Pancakes? I know they’re not gluten-free or organic or free-range grains or anything.  But I did cut up some fruit you can have with them.” He nodded his head back at a bowl of cut fruit waiting on the table, then turned back to his work, whistling again.

Sam stared.

Dean worked for a couple minutes, flipping and then pulling off the first batch of cakes and starting a second batch.  Then he looked back at Sam. “You gonna sit down? Or just stand there and stare at me?”

Sam hesitated and then stepped over to the table and slid into a chair.  Dean just kept going, finishing the rest of the pancakes and stacking them up onto two plates, then setting one down in front of Sam and one in front of his own chair.  Dean brought over butter, syrup, and a batch of bacon he pulled from the oven, and sat down across from Sam, immediately smothering his own pancakes in a sickening amount of syrup.

Dean nodded at Sam’s plate.  “Aren’t you gonna eat? You gotta be hungry, too.  I mean, I know I haven’t eaten a good meal in a week, but you put out some serious energy last night, too, after all.  Gotta replenish, man.” He shoved a huge forkful of dripping pancake into his mouth and chewed away, his cheeks puffing out from the size of the bite.

He put out some serious energy?  So Dean remembered what they did?  And he was just...what? Acting like it was all normal?

Dean stared at him as he chewed, then shrugged as he swallowed and bent back down to his plate, forking another big mouthful up.  Sam watched him eat for a couple more minutes then ventured, “So, how are you…feeling?”

“Oh,” Dean said, around a mouthful of bacon.  “Yeah. I should have said. It looks like you cured me.  I had Rowena come by just to make sure, and she said the curse is entirely gone.  So I guess your jizz is just the magical hex-cure I needed.” He grinned at Sam and then shoved in another shockingly huge bit of pancakes.

Wha—?  Sam couldn’t take it.

“Dean.  You’re saying you remember what we—what I did last night?  And you’re just what—going to make me breakfast and act like it’s all completely okay?”

At that, Dean’s expression grew more serious and he set his fork down and picked up his napkin.  He finished chewing and wiped his mouth, then set it down on the table, leaning slightly back in his chair.

“Of course I remember, Sam.  Did you think I was asleep? Or too sick to be aware of what we were doing?”

“Yeah…I guess.  I mean, I didn’t exactly think you’d be entirely okay with it if you were…your usual self.”

Dean looked at him and after a few moments, nodded.  “Probably not. But maybe my usual self is a dick.”

Sam just stared.

Dean sighed, and picked his fork back up.  He nodded at Sam’s plate. “You really should eat.  I really think you’re gonna want the energy.” Then he fucking  _ winked _ at Sam and dug back into his pancakes.

Sam launched up from his place and around the table in a flash, dragging Dean’s chair back and spinning it around.  He wrapped his hands around the arms of Dean’s chair and bent down over him. “What is going on with you, Dean? Are you… _ flirting _ with me right now?”

Dean smirked.  “I don’t know, Sammy.  Would you like that? If I flirt real pretty will I maybe get a treat after breakfast?”  His voice was low and teasing. “Or if you don’t like it, maybe you can punish me for it.  I guess I kind of figure that either way I win.”

Sam stared.  Holy fuck. Then Dean’s tongue snaked out and slid tantalizing slowly over his just barely spread lips.  And Sam felt heat stirring in his groin as he flashed back to how it had felt to sink his cock into Dean’s waiting mouth.  

“So this is just…what?  Who we are now? Just brothers who fuck?”

Dean’s jaw clenched and something seemed to shift in him.  Seconds passed until he finally said, “Not just. We’ll never be just anything, Sam.  And it’s up to you, too. But my vote is…yeah...I want more. I think kind of a lot more.  For as long as you’ll let me.” Dean’s shoulders gave a little shrug and Sam’s knees suddenly felt weak.

Dean must have felt him shake or something as suddenly his brother was up, hands under Sam’s elbow, and guiding him back to his chair.  Then Dean was…on his knees? Dean was on his knees in front of Sam, looking up at him and waiting.

“Dean?”

“Uh…I’m…sorry, Sammy.  I shouldn’t have tried to just blow it off so casual.  I just…you know how great I am with facing.... Well, anyway, there’s no pressure, okay?  I appreciate what you did for me. And I know that you know now what the curse meant—that I’ve always wanted you.  I thought maybe you…well, it doesn’t matter. The point is that we’re brothers first. We’ll always be brothers. And if you don’t want to ever do that again and you want to forget all about it, I’ll back your play.  Okay?”

“No!” Sam blurted.  His hands flew out to take hold of Dean’s face.  “No. I don’t want to forget.”

Dean’s mouth curled up, just a bit.  Like the beginning of a promise. “Good.  Then do you maybe want to try doing some more of that?”

Sam nodded.

The smile opened up wide.  “Like, maybe now?”

Sam nodded.

Dean grinned and started to rise.  Sam held tight to his face, holding him still.  “Wait. First. Can…can I kiss you?”

This time it was Dean who nodded, and Sam leaned in, feeling his eyes welling with tears when his lips finally met Dean’s for the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the delightful Fandorica for beta-reading this for me.


End file.
